pairs

I was watching the pairs figure skating (it was a lazy Sunday afternoon and I had no control over the remote, OK?) and I saw one of the skaters fall. My first thought was, “What is his partner thinking?” When you fall by yourself, you have a choice. You can pick yourself up and, for personal pride, continue to skate even though you know you’re out of medal contention. Or you can just pack it in and you don’t affect anyone but yourself (and a few million of your countrymen, but they’re not on the ice with you). But if you have a partner you have to think about how your reaction affects your partner. It’s not just about you anymore. It’s not just personal pride at stake, but the morale of your partner and your future as a competing team.

In the Christian life we never fall alone. The other day I stumbled on an old song that I used to cover in a band 25 years ago (yikes, I’m ancient!). Twila Paris’ “The warrior is a child” describes the weaknesses that a soldier of the faith feels inside in spite of the bravado displayed on the outside. The song implies that the only one who really understands the inner life of the soldier is our Commander, but that can’t (or shouldn’t) be completely true. We have others around us, fighting the same battles, who would support us if we would get over our rugged individualism and open up to them.

God places the members in the body “as he wills” (1 Corinthians 12:18 KJV). Just as parts of the body need each other and can’t function by themselves, so God’s designed His Church to be interdependent. You and I can’t drop out without it affecting a lot of other people.

I suppose I could have had similar thoughts watching the interview with the losing coach of the Super Bowl, but I was too busy eating.

hosanna?

A couple Fridays ago, as part of a board meeting for The Mosaic Center (click on the link on the right to find out more about TMC), I slept overnight at the Fred Jordan Mission in Los Angeles’ “skid row” (if you want a cushy board member gig, don’t join a board that’s concerned with social justice). I was awakened by a recording of the worship song “Hosanna” being played outside on the street. I looked outside and saw a line of people a block long waiting in the rain for breakfast.

Listening to “Hosanna” in a comfortable sanctuary as it’s played by a high-tech worship band is worlds away from hearing it in a line of homeless people waiting for food in the rain. The word “Hosanna” means “save us”. It was the people’s cry of reliance on their king. Over the millenia it's come to be associated mostly with hymns being sung by people in suits and dresses or anthems sung by choirs in beautiful cathedrals. But it takes on a whole different meaning when you’ve been run over by the world system instead of enjoying the benefits of being one of the world’s privileged.

Our God has chosen to identify with the poor rather than the privileged. What did Jesus experience when he was on earth? He was part of an oppressed minority and spent his ministry years as a homeless person. But in the Kingdom that Jesus proclaimed (and of which his followers are ambassadors) there is no favoritism. No one will be excluded, marginalized, ignored, or taken advantage of. Hosanna.